Endless Doubts
by newyork24-7
Summary: After Elsie suffers a loss it causes her to re-evaluate her life and the decisions she has made so far, and it is a certain stuffy Butler who shall feel the consequences of it all.
1. Chapter 1

**A story not related to either Still Waters or its sequel but still set long before the series started.**

* * *

_1893_

The letter in her pocket felt as though it were a leaden weight, and Elsie could hardly concentrate on the task at hand. She stared at the fire grate she was supposed to be polishing, her cloth hanging slackly in her weak grip, the dusty rug she was to take out and beat later today digging into her knees.

Tears prickled at her eyes and taking a deep breath, she settled back on her haunches in an attempt to settle herself before continuing with her task. She arched her neck, stretching the tired muscles. Her eyes caught sight of the scant family photographs that rested on the top of the ornate mantelpiece and her breath caught on a small sob. The tears she had been so valiantly trying to hold back began to trickle down her cheeks. Elsie shook her head in an attempt to dispel them, what use was crying to anyone?

The door creaked open and she heard the authoritative baritone of Mr Carson, "Elsie, you should be finished in here by now. Lord Grantham is to meet with his Solicitor in here this afternoon, and we can't have the work unfinished."

"No, Mr Carson," she agreed dutifully, her voice shaking somewhat.

"Then get on with it." He stepped closer and gave an irate sigh. "You've barely even started."

"It will be finished," she assured him, after all she had never failed in a task before.

Charles registered the terseness in the head housemaid's voice and glanced down, prepared to reprimand her for it, his words sticking in his throat when he caught sight of a glistening tear track on her cheek. He cleared his throat awkwardly instead. "Would you stand up for a moment please?" He requested.

She should do as he said without question, but despite knowing this, replied, "I should really be getting on, as you've rightly pointed out."

"Elsie."

She heard the warning in his voice and so smoothing her hands down her dusty apron, she got awkwardly to her feet, her head bowed, refusing to meet his gaze. Still though he could see her red rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks and she heard him give another sigh. "Is there anything you need?" She asked softly.

He ignored her question, stating instead, "You received a letter this morning, and you have been rather quiet since then." He saw her hand brush over her pocket absent-mindedly. "I assume that the news it contained was not good.

Elsie shook her head, hating herself as yet more traitorous tears escaped. She rubbed at her damp cheeks in irritation, leaving a dark smudge of dirt on her pale skin. "The letter was from my sister, our mother has passed away."

Charles felt his features tighten at her words, unsure as to how best provide any comfort to her. His back straightened. "I shall inform Mrs Jones of your news and we shall arrange for you to travel home for the funeral. In the meantime you must of course take the rest of the day off."

"There wouldn't be much point in that. The letter was delayed, the funeral was yesterday." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "I missed it." She had let down her own family whilst she served another, answered to their every whim in fact.

Reaching into his pocket, Charles pulled out his immaculate white handkerchief and offered it to her. "You cannot blame yourself for the vagrancies of the mail."

She did not take the small offering. "If I had been closer," she lamented quietly, "then perhaps I would have made it."

"Perhaps," he agreed. "But as there is no certainty in that thought, I would try not to think it." He nudged her hand with his, pressing the white linen into her palm. "You have a smudge on your cheek."

Elsie made a sound that was half a humourless laugh and half a choked sob. She glanced up at the rather rigid man in front of her, he was tall and handsome, but so very serious and despite herself she could not help but wonder what would unbend him, what would make him smile. "I couldn't possibly. You'd most likely never get it so clean looking ever again."

"It is replaceable." He reached out and closed her fingers over it. "I insist."

She offered him a watery smile, "Thank you."

Charles nodded, belatedly realising that his hand was still clasping hers. He looked up into her tearstained face as he subtly drew away his touch. While she would not be counted as classically beautiful, she was quite pretty, he thought suddenly, her face striking, her cheekbones high, her eyes wide and her mouth full. There was a shot of attraction through his veins, something he had not felt since Alice, and this time it was even more misguided and inappropriate. He respected Elsie, respected the work ethic she had shown over the last year and he could not fathom why he suddenly felt such a pull towards her. "As I said, you should take the rest of the day off."

She brushed the warm linen distractedly across her cheek, only succeeding in smudging the mark even further as she replied, "I appreciate the thought, Mr Carson, but I would rather work." Her lips pursed as she shook her head. "If I'm not kept busy then all I shall do is think on where I should have been."

He gave a curt, business-like nod. "If you absolutely insist." Unthinkingly he took the handkerchief from her hand and gently wiped away the mark upon her cheek. He heard her sharp inhale of breath and felt his heart almost skip a beat as her curious brown eyes met his. "You missed a spot," he offered, dropping the material back into her hand.

Elsie wetted her lips nervously, suddenly aware of the heat flooding through her veins, she had never felt such a sensation before. "Thank you," she murmured. His touch should have been inappropriate in that it made her blush, but she had no doubt he simply did not want her looking slovenly. After all Mr Carson prided neatness and order above all else, he was extremely proper and she doubted he had ever suffered from an inappropriate thought in his life. Suddenly she had the oddest urge to corrupt him, to show him that his life did not have to be lived through others, to show him passion, excitement – although she knew none of those things herself. She felt her cheeks burn and she offered him back his handkerchief.

He shook his head. "You should keep it. I have more."

Her thumb and forefinger rubbed against the material as she protested, "Oh no, it's too high a quality for me to keep from you."

Charles waved his hand. "I will not hear of it," he replied. "I gave it to you, think of it as a gift."

The words lingered, almost echoing and she saw his jaw tighten as the inappropriateness of his words dawned on him. "Well then thank you," she finally told him. "I should get on."

Grateful that she hasn't mentioned his faux pas, Charles tells her, "I will ask Mrs Jones if she has anyone spare to help you."

"No, I have let myself run late and I am more than capable of catching myself up. The work will be done, Mr Carson, and done well."

Her phrasing is curt, almost dismissive, and with anyone else he would have issued a warning. Yet he had no compulsion to warn her. He could hear the truth in her words, knew that she would finish in time and to her usual standard, she was lined up to be the next housekeeper of Downton after all, one day they would most likely work side by side. So instead of a reprimand he gave a small nod. "As long as it is completed on time, Elsie, we shall say no more of this morning."

"Thank you." She stood still until he turned away, it would be disrespectful for her to turn away and she had cut it fine often enough this morning in regards to her behaviour. He would only give her so much leeway before she faced his rather fearsome wrath. Her eyes lingered on the breadth of his shoulders as he walked out of the room, her lips pursing thoughtfully before she turned back to the task at hand, pouring her grief , anger and frustration into her work. And even if she said so herself it made the results better than ever.


	2. Chapter 2

Elsie wrote so quickly that the damp ink smeared beneath her hand, the words smudging, yet thankfully still remaining legible. She wrote her apologies for missing the funeral, of her grief but she also included her relief that finally their mother's suffering was at an end. Throughout it all though she made no offer to make her way up to Argyle, there seemed little point now, and she knew her ever practical sister would not encourage such a pointless visit.

After all, what would she do there? Stare at the newly turned earth of the grave and lament? That was of no use, practicality would be much more appreciated. So instead she reached into the small drawer of her bedside table, grabbing the small box that rested within it and pulling out the small crown coin that rested within it, placing it to the side so that she could enclose it in the envelope, writing her wish that it was either used for flowers or put towards a headstone. A humourless smile pulled at her lips, she had planned to buy a new hat for spring, a thought that seemed so frivolous and pointless now.

She signed her love and her name with a flourish and began scanning the letter to check it read as she wished it to. That it adequately conveyed her grief and sorrow without being overly saccharine. Katherine would not appreciate morose and maudlin words that were shrouded in self pity. It was in fact one of the few attributes that they had in common.

Her sister had been proud of her when she'd first entered service. She remembered her wide beam when she had seen her in her neat uniform and heard how much she would make, and then she remembered how many years later, that smile, that pride had faded.

_She rushed in, not even pausing to wipe her shoes on the doormat, her letter clenched tightly within her grasp. "I got it," she yelled excitedly as she rushed into the small parlour room._

_Katherine looked up from mending, giving her a bemused look as she asked, "Got what?" Her eyes dropped to the footprints on her clean floor and sighed in exasperation, "Oh, Elsie! I've just brushed the floors."_

"_I'll clean up." She thrust out her letter and repeated again, "I got it. Oh Katie, I never thought I would."_

_Taking the letter, her older sister perused the neat words, her mouth tightening as she read. Finally she looked up and asked, "What about Joe?"_

"_What about him?"_

"_I thought that he might be close to proposing."_

_Elsie blushed slightly as she admitted reluctantly, "He did. I told him my news and he asked me not to go." She met her sister's eyes defiantly. "I turned him down."_

_Katherine slammed her mending down onto her knee. "Now why would you do that?"_

"_Because it means giving up everything that I've worked for!"_

_Giving an irate sigh, the older girl shook her head angrily. "Elsie," she hissed. "You cannot throw away such an opportunity to be a housemaid."_

"_You make it sound so menial," she argued._

"_And it isn't?"_

"_No! It will be my job, I shall have my own money and live my own life."_

"_You will be a servant, with no home or family other than the one you serve," she warned her. "You would do much better with Joe Burns. Farmer's truly do control their own destinies."_

_Elsie gave a snort of derision. "No, the land does. And while a farmer may have some freedom, his wife is still subject to his whims."_

_Katherine's features softened slightly, her voice dropping so that their mother didn't hear her next words. "Elsie, not every marriage is like our parents."_

"_I won't marry a man I don't love," she replied mulishly. _

"_You are friends and you have respect. Love can grow from that. I am certain that Joe would never hurt you."_

_She shook her head. "I enjoy my work, Downton shall be a challenge for me."_

"_I'm sure it shall be." Katherine glanced over to where her youngest lay sleeping in a small crib. "But you shall miss out on so much more." You are not a child anymore. You will be thirty next month, time is slipping through your fingers. Don't waste it."_

"_I'm not. I'm making the most of it." She snatched the letter from her sister's grasp. "You'll see," she told her. "I won't regret it._

Elsie cringed as she looked back now, at her own arrogance and how she had belittled her sister's warning. She looked around the small room that she could not even call her own, a room that was almost empty of personal possessions. It was hard to believe that just a year ago she had arrived on the doorstep to the servant's entrance, confident of her future. With the death of her mother, she could not help but think of what she would leave behind.

Her sister would leave children, who in turn, God willing, would leave children of their own. What would her legacy be? It would be swallowed up into this great big house, perhaps if she did become housekeeper as she had hoped, historians would note her signature upon ledgers, and of course she would be forever imprinted in the yearly staff photograph, but otherwise this house would absorb her history until she was nothing more than that small, still image and faded ink.

She felt numb at the thought, ice rushing through her veins. Exhaling sharply, she forced herself to concentrate instead on what was in front of her in the present time.

The black smear across the heavy, cream paper caught her gaze, and she stilled, staring at it intently for a moment before her eyes skittered over to where the stained handkerchief rested on the shared writing desk. The numbness she felt dissolved as she thought of the stern Butler's touch, of his accidental, almost caress.

She shivered, it was wrong to feel this way but surely she could put such a feeling down to the shock of her grief. She had worked with...for the man nigh on a year and had never once seen him more than their stern leader, a humourless, unbending man. What, she wondered, would it take to make him smile? The sudden urge to accomplish that task assailed her, along with a certainty that he would have the most captivating smile. She scolded herself silently, such thoughts were foolish and not to be entertained.

Her fingers rubbed the stained material. She would return it to him of course, it would be improper to do anything else, no matter how much she yearned to keep the token. The fabric splayed out across her palm. She would have to clean it of course, and that would take time, after all she could not possibly return it in anything less than impeccable condition.

* * *

They stood quickly, chairs scraping against the stone flooring as the Housekeeper entered the room. Everybody focussed their eyes forward despite the fact that the older woman's thoughts were very obviously elsewhere, mainly on the day's mail. She looked up, announcing, "Letter for you, Elsie."

Leaning forward, Elsie took it, quickly glancing down to see her sister's familiar writing, before looking back up in time to see Mr Carson enter the room. He was as serious looking as ever. Her lips quirked thoughtfully, she wasn't sure why she expected to see anything different in him. Every day for the last three weeks she had examined his features as closely as decency would allow, and yet still she didn't know where she stood, whether this sudden attraction she felt was in any way returned.

His stern gaze flickered down the table, observing each of them in turn – searching for faults – before nodding at Mrs Jones, both of them moving to sit at the same time, the rest of the staff a fraction of a second later. As he made polite small talk about the day ahead with the housekeeper, Elsie pushed the spoon around her porridge in mild irritation. His gaze had not lingered on her, his expression had not changed, which meant she was obviously indulging in a strange fantasy brought on by her grief. She took a mouthful of her breakfast as she silently scolded herself, just because she had began to doubt the choices she had made it did not mean she should indulge in this foolishness.

Her fingers shifted restlessly against the thin envelope and unable to restrain herself, she opened it carefully underneath the table, reading quickly. As she took comfort from her sister's words, she remained completely oblivious to the curious glance that Mr Carson spared her from the top of the table.

* * *

It was madness to approach her, and yet he could not help himself. He had seen her attempt to read her mail subtly underneath the wooden tabletop and he had felt a small trickle of concern run through him, unsettling his ordered world, leaving him feeling as though his composure had been shaken. He felt for his staff when they were in times of trouble – he was not heartless – but it had never before carried such a distracting intensity to it. It wove a web inside his head, clinging to every corner until every thought revolved around her.

He had lost count of the times in the last few weeks when he had found himself thinking of her, of the times he had paused in his daily routine if he came across her, watched her work; admired the way she could turn her hand to not only the heaviest of tasks without a murmur of complaint, to the way her elegant hands could mend the most delicate of items. He had watched as she encouraged younger members of staff, never chiding, never patronising but always supportive, and he saw how they respected her for it. It was true that he had in fact commented on her good work in the past to Mrs Jones, but now there was a tangible change to how he felt about her. He no longer saw her as merely another member of staff, but as a woman he was quickly becoming fascinated with. It would not do, he was a Butler, he must be beyond reproach, he represented the grandeur of this estate and to become infatuated with a housemaid was sordid and beneath his position.

And yet he could not stay away, found himself drawn in like the proverbial moth to the flame, seeking her out, wanting her reassurance that all was well. She was in one of the many store cupboards, piling her basket with her tools for the day. He cleared his throat and watched her jerk, twirling round to face him with a look of surprise. She nodded respectfully as she gasped out, "Mr Carson."

Her breathless tone caused his stomach to twist in a way he would rather not focus on, the heightened colour in her cheeks intriguing him as her gaze met his, after all she had always met his gaze so forthrightly in the past, why should now be any different? Choosing not to focus on that particular titbit, Charles asked, "I just wanted to check you were well." He watched her, her head tilting curiously at his words and he coughed, adding awkwardly, "I saw you received a letter, I hope it wasn't more bad news."

"Oh." She shook her head. "No, simply a reply from my sister." Her eyes slid away from his, her gaze clouding slightly as she continued, "She has told me not to feel guilty about missing the funeral."

"She is right."

"If only it were so simple." She caught his gaze again, and he couldn't quite read the look on her face as she told him, "I appreciate your concern, Mr Carson."

"Ah...yes...well I do not like to see you looking as troubled as you did." He frowned and coughed again – he truly believed his collar was growing tighter. "What I mean is that I do not like to see any of my staff upset."

"Of course not." She blinked up at him and he rather felt as though she could see right through him, see through his facade and tell why he truly wanted to know about her. His skin prickled uncomfortably. "That is good of you."

"Hmmm. Well, if there is anything I can do to help, you need only ask."

"I shall keep that in mind." The ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Thank you, Mr Carson"

"You are welcome." He turned and left quickly, bewildered by the brief encounter that had in no means dampened his ardour.

* * *

The handkerchief was finally clean. It had taken weeks of cleaning in order to remove the dark stain and leave it as pristine as it had been when he had handed it to her.

It almost pained her to return it to him, to give away that small token that she treasured from him. He had offered her comfort in a time she thought there was none to be found, and he had even sought her out to ensure that she was not suffering.

A small smile curved her mouth. It had been an awkward encounter, there was no denying that, but she had seen the flush that had come to his cheeks and it had made her wonder if maybe she had not been so alone in her feelings. If only she could be sure...

She didn't know what difference that would make. It would most likely make things worse, after all it could never end well, it was the most foolish endeavour she had ever undertaken. And yet...and yet she found her rose oil in her hand, the only scent she wore, dabbing it behind her ears despite the fact it was frowned up, the one indulgence she allowed herself, and she found herself dabbing it strategically across the fabric.

No good could come of this, she told herself as she tucked it into an envelope, ready to tuck it underneath his door the first chance she got.

* * *

Sighing tiredly as he slipped into his pantry, Charles readied himself to check the accounts for the night, only for his concentration to slip as his foot came into contact with something on his floor. It was white envelope, unaddressed but clearly intended for him.

He picked it up, opened it with a frown on his face, pulling out a pristine handkerchief and a small note. The writing was neat and simple, as was the phrase, _Thank you_, and it was immediately clear who had sent it.

Charles pondered on its meaning, on why she had returned it. He lifted it slightly, the air within the room catching it, causing the scent of perfume to hit his nostrils. Rose, he thought dimly as he realised he had caught the smallest hint of the same scent on Elsie more than once. The thought warmed him, relaxed his weary bones, that she had held it so close, that he had even just this smallest part of her.

Foolish thoughts he told himself. Utterly damnable ones at that, but still it did not stop him coveting his small prize.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for all your reviews so far :)**

* * *

Throwing open the windows to air the room, Elsie turned her attention to the rest of her work. The sunlight caused the thin layer of dust covering the surfaces of the furniture to glitter and she knew that when she wiped it away, dispersing it into the air it would sparkle and drift for a while before settling straight back onto another piece of furniture. She gave a weary sigh, it was times like these that her job seemed utterly pointless. The aim was perfection, and for a very short while that was achieved and she could survey her work with pride, but it could never last and so the whole routine would have to be repeated again and again, but to what end? So that one family was not troubled with a sight that was anything less than wonderful? Would a speck of dust really cause the house to fall down about their ears?

She smiled despite her irritation, the way that Mr Carson would run a white gloved fingertip across randomly selected items to check all was well in his kingdom would certainly suggest such a catastrophe was possible. It had been a habit she had watched for a year now with little more than the thought that if it was her work he was checking then he would not be disappointed. Now however, when she saw him run one finger smoothly along the polished wood, she wondered if he would be so exacting in every other aspect of his life. The thought caused her skin to burn and she willed her cheeks not to go pink – as though that would make a difference – as she tried not to think about his hands.

Even now, just the thought of his large frame leaning over her, his hands running over her...she swallowed heavily, she really must stop thinking about such things. She was not even sure where her feelings had sprung from, she had always respected the man, but now she burned for him. When he graced her with a smile or complimented her work she felt a trill of pleasure, which was utterly ridiculous, she had never once courted a man's approval in her life and it was daft to start now. Nothing but trouble could come from it.

It was a good thing that she could do her work automatically now, that she could keep up her standards while her mind pondered such things – although she really wished it would at least try to focus. As she swept her dusting rag across the dressing table, shifting the smaller items before moving them exactly back to where they had originally been, she heard the door creek open.

Glancing over her shoulder, expecting one of the junior maids to be approaching her with a query, Elsie's eyes widened as Lady Grantham stepped into the room. She twirled so that she was facing her and ducked into a respectful curtsey, the movement well practised and graceful. "Milady," she remarked calmly. "My apologies, I haven't quite finished." Which was not a great surprise considering her Ladyship had only vacated the room ten minutes before she had entered.

Cora waved a dismissive hand before resting it on her large and rather cumbersome bump with a tired sigh, replying, "It's quite alright. I rather forgot that you would be cleaning in here, and I had said I would be spending time in the morning room." She sagged slightly against the doorframe. "So really it's my fault."

Elsie stepped forward. "You look tired, Milady, is there anything I can do? Anyone I can fetch?"

"No." She gave an elegant shake of her head. "I'm simply tired, and far too hot, I'm sure if I lie down I shall be fine."

Normally Elsie would take those words as her dismissal, but the younger woman looked so very pale, her delicate features strained. She took another step forward, asking tentatively, "Can I do anything to help, Milady?"

"If you could lever me off the door I would be forever grateful." Cora looked up and for the briefest of moments her old sense of humour rushed to the surface, only to be dampened by the sharp cramp that rippled across the muscles of her back.

Elsie slipped one arm around her Ladyships back, grimacing slightly at the dampened material of her otherwise elegant dress and took one hand in her other. Moving her gently, they stepped forward in small steps until they reached the bed. Cora dropped down heavily, giving a loud sigh of relief. Her forehead creasing into a concerned frown, Elsie asked, "Are you sure you don't wish me to get his Lordship?"

"Absolutely not," Cora replied firmly. "If I so much as sneeze just now he has a mild apoplexy, I am simply extremely warm, no need to worry him." She gave a grateful sigh as Elsie helped her lift her heavy legs onto the bed. "Thank you." She settled back against her pillows. "My ankles seem to have lost all their shape, I feel like an over inflated balloon."

"Well you don't look like one," Elsie told her, the smallest hint of dryness creeping into her tone.

"Very kind of you to say so, but I do not think I have ever felt so wretchedly uncomfortable. I did not expect to feel this way," she admitted. "My last pregnancy was so easy." At that she managed a faint smile and brushed her hand across her swollen stomach. "I really do think this baby is a boy," she confided. "They have been completely contrasting experiences so it would make sense."

Elsie's lips thinned thoughtfully. "I couldn't really say, Milady, it's not a field where my expertise lies."

"No, I suppose not. But everyone is certain, I am certain," she repeated, her face alight with joy. "A son and heir," she continued. "A bouncing baby boy who will put Lady Mary in her place," she laughed softly.

Elsie averted her gaze for a moment so Lady Grantham could not see her raised eyebrow. In her opinion the sulky and rather demanding two year old could do with such a thing. She had never met such a spoiled toddler, beautiful and intelligent, yes; but far too used to getting everything her own way. "Either way, I'm sure that the arrival of a healthy child shall be treasured," she replied carefully. She did not particularly like the way that boys were so coveted over girls, she understood the ever present need for an heir but that did not mean she had to like it. A new life should be celebrated, regardless of its gender.

"Of course," came the airy reply, "but call it mother's intuition because I know that in just a few short weeks there shall be a son in the nursery."

Giving her a small, kind smile, Elsie nodded, hopeful that the young Countess was right, because if she wasn't then the disappointment would be absolutely crushing, and no baby deserved to be burdened with such a start in life. "In the meantime, is there anything I can bring you?"

"Yes." She glanced up and instructed her, "Send up Evans for me."

"Of course, Milady." Elsie gave a small curtsey again before turning on her heels and gathering her supplies basket the setting off in search of the Countess's lady's maid.

* * *

Muttering under her breath, Elsie quickened her steps. It had taken her longer than she would have liked to have tracked down the errant Alice Evans and it had left her running behind. Not disastrously so, but enough to leave her feeling slightly flustered.

She turned at the top of the servant's stairs, not noticing that the stone flooring was damp, a few remnants of soap suds still evident in small patches where it had not been rinsed away thoroughly. The sole of her shoe slipped on such a patch, siding out from underneath her. A noise of alarm caught in her throat, a shriek of surprise escaping from her lips as she felt herself falling forward.

One hand managed to catch hold of the banister, but her body continued to fall forward, her other hand reaching out to try and find purpose and managing to find it in the large steel radiator that sat at the top of the stairwell. The sharp edge dug into the soft flesh of her palm and her body twisted sharply, but it had stopped her from tumbling down the flight of steps and for that she was grateful.

Straightening carefully, Elsie winced as her strained muscles protested the move. She took in a few deep breaths, trying to disperse the panic she had felt in those few moments when she had truly believed she was going to topple downwards. From the bottom of the stairs she heard the heavy tread of hurried footsteps and glanced up to see Mr Carson staring up at her. "I heard you call out," he remarked, his eyes raking over her in alarm.

"I slipped," she admitted. "But I'm fine." She lifted her hand from the radiator and winced; she must have bruised it.

His eyes however widened. "You're bleeding."

Elsie followed his gaze and saw that the radiator that had saved her had also torn into her skin, blood trickling down her palm. "Oh," she remarked in surprise, thrusting her hand away from herself. She did not want to have to attempt to scrub blood out of her uniform.

Charles was up the stairs in seconds, deftly wrapping his handkerchief around her hand. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"No," she assured him, watching as her blood seeped through the linen. She let out a small tsking sound. "It would appear that I am determined to destroy your handkerchief."

"It's not the same one," he replied distractedly as he scanned her for other injuries, relieved to find none.

"I'm not sure that makes it any better, if I continue at this rate you will have none left. This certainly isn't salvageable."

"As long as your hand is." His propriety appeared to have been forgotten. "I have a first aid kit in my office, come along and I'll have a look."

Her stomach fluttered at his authoritative words, and she followed him silently down the stairs and along the wide corridor, into his office. He waved her towards a seat and she sat down, gripping her makeshift bandage tightly, watching as he busied himself around the neat room. She took the opportunity to look around but found nothing of interest, nothing that would give away anything about the man beneath the uniform, and that was what she desperately wanted to know.

He drew a seat across from her and took her hand gently, peeling away the sodden material, frowning at the cut. She watched him, her head tilting as she felt his gentle grip on her hand, the flutters in her stomach multiplying. His hands were slightly calloused but if anything that merely intensified the sensation she felt. How silly of her, she reprimanded herself, to feel so strongly about someone merely holding her hand, and yet the thought did nothing to quell how she felt.

"It's not as bad as I first thought," he remarked, dabbing gently at the edges of the ragged cut with some iodine. She flinched slightly at the mild sting and he murmured, "Sorry." His thumb caressed the fleshy base beneath her thumb in a soothing gesture, and her breath caught. He should stop, should let her hand fall, he knew that that last touch had been highly inappropriate, but still he continued. Cleaning the wound thoroughly, he examined her hands. They were elegant, her fingers long, the skin across the front of her hand slightly dry, chaffed from years of hard work, if it hadn't been for that they could have easily been mistaken for the hands of a gentlewoman. He forced himself to make comment on the cut he was supposed to be paying attention to, "A simple bandage will be needed to keep it clean, but I don't think it shall take long to heal."

Elsie watched as he unravelled the roll of bandage, carefully and precisely cutting off a length of it before expertly bandaging her hand, still though he did not let go, her hand remaining resting within his much larger one. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice having lost most of its volume, she was so enraptured by the sight before her.

"It was nothing. I am simply relieved it was not worse." He did not want to think what he may have come across had that radiator not broken her fall. "Although I am intrigued as to what you felt was so important you felt the need to risk your neck."

"Ah." She shifted awkwardly as she admitted, "It was the mending."

His eyebrow quirked upwards as his rumbling voice echoed, "The mending?"

"Yes, I had planned to start a few minutes earlier."

"A few minutes?" The corners of his mouth twitched in what looked like amusement.

"Yes. I was running behind and there is a lot of it to do."

"Quite. Although I'm not sure it's worth a serious injury."

"Hmmm, I'm not so convinced you would feel the same way if it was not finished," she replied with a note of teasing in her voice.

"I do believe that Mrs Jones is the tyrant when it comes to the mending of any linen."

"Ah yes; I forgot, you're the silver tyrant."

He laughed, a great booming sound that she couldn't help but smile at, his eyes glittering with a joy she had never seen in them before. "Slightly more valuable than linen," he remarked, chuckling.

"Yes, but one could argue that linen is more useful."

"No doubt you could." His thumb stroked over the bandage. "You do have quite the way with words."

"It will probably get me into trouble someday."

"Perhaps, but not today."

Her breathing grew heavier and shallower as he continued his gentle caresses. It was a surprise to her that she also enjoyed his company, that there was some depth to the attraction she felt to him. They leaned slightly closer, and Elsie found that she was now holding her breath as the silence stretched out between them.

They were only centimetres apart when the sound of excited giggling filled the corridor, causing the moment to break, to splinter apart and for them to jerk apart, both grateful for the closed door.

Charles got jerkily to his feet, shocked by what he had been considering doing. No, he hadn't been considering it, he hadn't been thinking at all, not really, all he could see had been her and all that was in his mind was her, the warmth of her skin beneath his touch, the scent of her - that lingered on the handkerchief he kept in his top drawer – and the heavy lidded look of her eyes, drawing him in. He turned away from her, seeing the embarrassed flush that was spreading across her cheeks and feeling terrible for it, he was her superior, he should know better. "You should get back to your mending," he finally ground out.

Elsie nodded, stumbling to her feet, shaken by what she had just experienced. "Yes, yes you're right." She rushed past him, hesitating at the door. She turned, looking back at him, trying to find the words to tell him that she didn't regret what had just transpired, but nothing adequate came to mind. His back was to her, his shoulders stiff and unyielding and in that instant she realised that even if the perfect words had came to hand he would not accept them, and so she left him to his thoughts and tormented by her own.


	4. Chapter 4

**Your reviews have been wonderful :)**

**I hope you all enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

Settling back in his chair, Charles ran his finger beneath the rim of his collar, attempting to loosen it. Never before had he felt it uncomfortable but now it felt as though it were a noose tightening around him, robbing him of his breath.

He rubbed at his head, beads of sweat popping out along his brow. The air was horribly muggy, cloying, furthering his discomfort even more. He wished the summer's unbearable heat would break, this airless torture was driving him mad. As proved by the events of the day, it distracted him, made him act rashly, out of character.

Yes, that was it, he told himself - gulping back his glass of lukewarm water only to find it did nothing to rid him of his discomfort – it was the heat that was causing his madness. It was the heat that was causing his blood to boil, not the head housemaid. It was simply her that his madness had settled upon. It was not her knowing gaze, her Scottish lilt or teasing words that made him feel so unlike himself, it was this blasted endless Indian summer.

His glass hit his desk with a heavy thump as he stared blindly around his office, strange shapes danced in the flickering light of the gas lamps. His behaviour had shocked himself, he had never once looked at a housemaid with such eyes, had never considered them much at all. They fell under the purview of the Housekeeper, and other than checking that they did not interfere with the running of the house he did not have any dealings with them. He cursed the day he had stepped foot into that room, it was as though from that moment onwards a spell had been weaved upon him.

He gave a soft snort, now he was thinking utterly nonsensical thoughts. He'd be demanding to burn her at the stake next. This sudden infatuation made utterly no sense to him though, he could see no sensible reasoning behind it. When he had fallen in love with Alice it had not felt like this. This was torturous, he wanted her more than he sometimes thought he wanted his next breath, he wanted to touch her, to see her smile directed at him again and watch as the corners of her eyes crinkled with her joy. With Alice he had taken pleasure in her company, had thought her attractive and knew that they would suit and suit well, their life together would have been settled and quiet. That had not been enough for her, she had craved the excitement and glamour Grigg was willing to offer over his meagre idea of domesticated life.

His lips thinned as his mind traversed into memories he had shut out, forced himself to forget, only he couldn't ever fully force them away. Her rejection had devastated him, it had been the final straw in his disastrous foray into life on the stage. Already by then he had been considering a more peaceful life, not a return to service – that did not suit his plans to marry – but perhaps a shop, a business he could build up, pass down through any future children that may come along. She had blown that to dust with the small shake of her dark head, her eyes sad as her soft voice had turned him down. And so he had made the decision to return to service, to the career he had once dismissed as boring, as stifling, only to realise that there were worse things in life than security.

Elsie was nothing like Alice, she was not as calm. Alice did not have a temper to rouse, Elsie very plainly did, although she clearly was able to keep it in check. Alice was gentle, Elsie was caring but she didn't suffer fools gladly, and if someone need a sharp shock rather than tea and sympathy she was just as ready to dish that out. Elsie had the sharp corners that Alice had completely lacked.

And yet he was risking everything, the security and order that he had built up like a wall around himself was in danger of being torn down. She could lose him everything he had worked for, all it would take was one slip at the wrong moment and his career would fall down around his ears like a toppling house of cards. He would be the Butler who had fraternised with a maid, he would never find another position if that happened. He was in a position of trust and responsibility, neither of which could be shattered. Which meant the madness had to stop.

He closed his eyes, resting his head against the top of his chair. It was the heat, he told himself again, the heat would break and so would this obsession. It had to.

There was a hurried knock at his door, pulling his thoughts firmly back to business. "Enter," he barked sharply.

It was Harry, the young footboy. He shook slightly as he twisted his hands together as he stuttered nervously, "His Lordship sent me to get you, it's for her Ladyship, she needs the doctor."

All thoughts of Elsie, of his precarious position flew from Charles' head. He had a duty to do, it was what he excelled at and he wouldn't falter now.

* * *

The house thrummed with energy, the housemaids rushed up and down stairs with various items whilst the footmen skulked in the corners, their faces paling with each and every cry that echoed through the halls. Mr Carson chided them, hurried them forward so that they carried on with their assigned tasks. The smooth running of Downton would not falter, especially not on this most momentous of days.

Elsie picked up her skirts at a particularly sharp cry, tucking the towels tightly under her arm as she took the stairs two at a time. She neatly sidestepped the others heading from the room and ducked inside, passing the towels to the motioning nurse as Lady Grantham screamed and the young doctor leaned forward. She stood, frozen to the spot, her eyes averted to the ceiling for that brief moment before the sharp cry of the infant echoed in the air.

"Clamp," Dr Clarkson instructed sharply.

The nurse thrust the towels back at Elsie, telling her, "Stay there," before lunching forward towards the tray of glistening silver instruments, snatching one up and passing it into his hands.

"Is he ok?" Lady Grantham called out. "Is my son safe?"

The baby's cries had fallen to whimpers, the silence from everyone else in the room palpable. Elsie saw the two professionals share a rather grim look and her heart sank, there must be something wrong, so terribly wrong. She bit down on her bottom lip, her grip on the towels tighten until her knuckles turned white with the strain. As the nurse turned back, taking the soft pile from her hands, she heard the doctor clear his throat. "Perfectly healthy, Lady Grantham." There was a sigh of relief from the young woman as she propped herself up on her pillows, smiling expectantly and Elsie felt her shoulders begin to relax. She moved to gather up the stained linen at the foot of the bed when she heard him add, "A perfectly healthy baby girl."

"Girl?" The new mother echoed his last word, and Elsie could almost taste the disappointment in her tone. Her eyes fluttered shut as she willed the next phrase to be one of happiness, of relief that at least her child had been born healthy. She was disappointed. "No," came the muttered protest. "No that can't be right."

"I can assure you we have been well trained enough to ensure that we can't make such a mistake," Clarkson joked weakly. "Would you like to hold her?"

"Her?" Elsie straightened at those words, turning her back on the scene, unable to bear anymore, certain that she had already seen too much. She could hear the tears in the younger woman's voice, and she felt a splint of anger pierce her heart when she heard her answer, "No, no I don't want to hold _her_."

The door shut with a thud that echoed in her ears. Elsie could feel her face tighten, as her muscles pinched with the strain of remaining in control of herself. She slumped momentarily against the closed door, swallowing heavily, fighting to keep the rage that rushed through her head in check. One of the other maids, Rose, approached her with a quizzical glance. "You look as white as a sheet, are you alright?"

"Fine," she croaked out, her throat dry as she pulled in a deep, shuddering breath. "I just...I need air." She thrust the linen into her arms. "I shan't be long."

Rose stared open mouthed after her friend, surprised by her odd behaviour as she hissed after her, "Elsie! Elsie, where are you going?"

She didn't reply, she had to keep moving, she couldn't just stand here and wait for more instructions, to continue with her work as though nothing out of the ordinary had transpired. She drew in slow deep breaths as she strode quickly through the wide winding corridors until she came to the hidden set of servant's steps. She had always prided herself on her control, on being able to keep her chin up, to continue for appearances for appearances sake but at this moment in time she couldn't even manage that.

As she swept through the airy, stone passages of the servant's quarters, she came across Mr Carson. He frowned at her, enquiring with a sharpened tone, "Elsie, surely you should be upstairs?"

"Most likely," she answered, continuing on her path and ignoring his frigid stare. She wanted out, away from this house, away from so-called proper behaviour. His annoyed, almost horrified intake of breath showed her barb had hit its target, but she simply didn't care.

She slipped out into the back yard, given the activity within the house, it was quiet, deserted and exactly what she needed. Heavy drops of rain fell from the sky, the mugginess that had hung over the estate finally beginning to break. Heat still clung desperately to the air, but it wouldn't last long, not now.

Elsie tilted back her head, feeling the first cool drops hit her face, a startling contrast between the water and her warm surroundings. It was drizzling now, but the sky was dark, ominously heavy and she wagered it wouldn't be long before the heavens opened. She smiled, blinking her eyes open. She had always liked the rain, had jumped in the puddles it created as a little girl, had listened to it batter outside her window as she fell to sleep. The rain had helped to drown out the more unpleasant noises of the house, she focussed on it, let it lull her into security. And in the day, when the rain had stopped for a brief while it was as though everything had been washed clean and left anew, though of course it never had been.

It was what was needed though, that break, that change, it would clear the air and hopefully her mind with it. The rain fell heavier now and she wrapped her arms around herself, knowing she would be soaked to the skin soon. The door behind her opened with a loud creak, the hinges clearly needing oiled, and she spun round to find herself face to face with Mr Carson. He banged the door shut behind himself but stayed safe and dry underneath the small porch roof. "Inside," he barked, his face strained with annoyance.

Her anger surged. She didn't resent taking orders, not here, that was the way of things, that was the life she had chosen, but in that moment every small doubt, every niggle and annoyance she had suppressed over the last month rushed to the surface. Something about his presence, his propriety caused her to snap. "No," she returned swiftly, watching with some satisfaction as his lips thinned, turning bloodless.

"That was an instruction, not a request."

"I know what it was but I shan't be following it."

He inhaled sharply, breathing out through his nose as though his temper had been stretched to breaking point – it probably had, after all no-one had ever dared question his authority before. "If you are squeamish then I will have Mrs Jones find you another task, but you will come back inside."

She laughed, if it could be called that, that sharp, humourless sound that escaped her lips."I was raised on a farm, Mr Carson, I can assure you I am not squeamish."

His eyes flickered, confusion misting them as he struggled to understand her sudden derailment. She had always been so sensible, so in control. Although even now he sensed she held onto the tiniest last fragment, he told himself that was what stopped him dismissing her there and then for her insolence, that and she had suffered a heavy loss only last month, there could be room for some leeway. What he felt for her had nothing to do with his sudden leniency, nothing at all. "You've not had the easiest time of it recently," he finally forced out, unsure if his words were the right ones. "I can see why you might be upset."

Elsie shook her head at him, feeling now that her hair was falling free from its confines in heavy, soaking wet locks. She pushed them behind her ears. "Have you heard the news?" She asked after a moment. His silence and mystified stare suggested he had yet to hear. "It's a girl," she told him. "A second daughter."

Charles felt a muscle in his cheek twitch. He could not read her, could not tell what was driving her, was she worried for the future? Was that it? Another girl meant there was still no direct heir and left an uncertain future for all at Downton, perhaps after all she'd been through she disliked that uncertainty. "That is certainly...disappointing," he remarked slowly.

It was the wrong thing to say. She let out a quiet groan of frustration and stamped her foot. "You are just like them!" She glared at him, the words rushing from her in a torrent. "No matter that the child is healthy just because it's not the precious son and heir everyone laments! It shouldn't matter if she has only girls, as long as they are safely delivered what does it matter?"

Now she was being foolish, he thought, straightening his shoulders as he replied pompously, "A son and heir is necessary to the survival of the Estate, a girl cannot inherit and even you must be aware of that."

"Even I?" Her eyebrow quirked and again she laughed. "Oh I am very much aware of how things stand, Mr Carson. I am aware of the fact that there is an heir in Lord Grantham's cousin and his son."

"That is hardly the same thing," he scoffed.

"Why not?" She questioned, staring at him intently, her cheeks watermarked from the rain. "They have had the same education, the same upbringing. There is little difference in them, the house and estate shall continue as they always have regardless of the man with the blessed title."

"And what of Lady Grantham and her daughters? You know as well as I that every penny is tied into the estate, would you see them thrown out of their home?"

She gave a snort of derision. "They shall hardly be left to fend on the streets, the Dowager house may not be as spectacular as this but it is certainly not to be sniffed at, and as daughters of an Earl I am sure they will be able to make the most prosperous marriages. You also seem to forget, Mr Carson that there is an obvious solution to it all. They can marry Lady Mary off to the heir, meaning they will not lose out entirely on the estate."

"Well...yes," he agreed, feeling as though she had managed to rather wrong foot him with her argument.

"Then it is not a tragedy that this child is not a boy."

It was not a question but he answered it anyway, "I never said the word tragedy."

"No, you did not. No-one has said it, but the way they are acting!" She swallowed heavily, turning wide eyes onto him. "She wouldn't even hold her."

When her eyes fell on him, her mouth trembling, Charles felt as though he had been winded, he thought of her as strong, always had but now it was clear that she was hurting. He wasn't sure if it was tied into her loss but she had taken this all very much to heart. She was soaked to the skin and he had no doubt that it was only the warmth of the air that stopped her from shaking. "Elsie, come inside," he instructed her gently. She didn't move and so he stepped out into the rain until he stood directly in front of her. "You'll catch your death."

It was as though she hadn't heard him, she turned her face upwards to stare at him. "How can they?" She asked. "How can they reject that tiny little thing? What kind of life will she have?"

"A very happy one, it will all settle, you'll see." His hands settled over her arms, ready to pull her indoors if need be.

Elsie blinked, her rage had died away but it had left her feeling very much alone. A sudden warmth pierced through her cool skin and she remembered that she wasn't alone, he was here, as he had been before. Staring at him, she saw the concern in his eyes, and felt his thumbs rub almost automatically at her arms, as though he meant to try and warm her. The air was still muggy and her head hadn't cleared, oh but he was so very close to her. She couldn't think, could smell his cologne, could feel his touch and unthinkingly she rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him.

His hands tightened their grip and for a moment she thought he was about to push her away but instead he pulled her closer. One hand slipped from her arm, weaving itself around her waist and she clasped his face with her hands, her fingers stroking against his cheeks.

She had kissed before, chastely, nothing more than a peck really, this was not that. It stole her breath, ignited her blood. His mouth parted hers and she leaned further into him. She grows bold, nipping at his bottom lip and he groans, she does not think she'll ever savour a sound more.

He can think of nothing but her, his need for order and precision has deserted him and he will willingly risk the world he has built up for this moment in time with her. She fits in his arms so well, his hands slope perfectly against the curve of her waist, his long fingers caressing against sodden material.

She shivers, not from the chill of her wet clothes but from the sensations coursing through her. It is enough to pull him free of the fog, not completely but it is enough to rouse his concern, to make him break the kiss. "You must be freezing," he murmurs, his voice hoarse.

"No." She shakes her head. "I'm not."

Charles looks at her, she is soaked to the skin – he is not far behind now – and yet her cheeks are flushed, her chest heaving. Reason rushes back into his mind with a roar. She was upset, he has taken advantage. Her fingers still stroke his cheeks and he struggles against the feeling that she has provoked in him, it feels so right and yet it is intrinsically wrong. He pulls away, his eyes dropping to the paving stones, missing the hurt that flashes momentarily in her eyes. "You must go inside," he instructs her.

Elsie swallows heavily, her hands now by her sides like lumps of stone. She wants to say something, to make this right, to show him that she doesn't regret this moment. How can she? She had felt so numb and this has managed to rouse her, she does not want to give it up. "I..." Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth and suddenly her mind which is normally so quick-witted refuses to kick in. She tries again. "Mr Carson-"

It is the use of his title that breaks him. He has failed in his duty, and what was worse was that he didn't care. In that moment of madness he would have happily have let it be torn from his fingers. He had never felt like that, even with Alice...The thought of her enrages him, he had lost her and as a result had rebuilt a new life for himself, one he could have lost to this utter lunacy. "No!" He snaps. "Go back to work, Elsie! We shall not discuss this!"

She wants to argue, but still the words desert her. Her heart aches with the pain of his rejection even as her mind acknowledges why he is acting in such a way. She nods, her steps slow. Stopping beside him she turns, pressing her hand against his arm, relieved when he does not pull it away. "I'm sorry," she whispers gently.

His back stiffens at her words, but still he doesn't turn to look at her. He can hear her footsteps echoing on the paving until the soft thud of the door indicates that now he is truly alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter did not go as planned but as I don't think it will affect where I end up I have decided to just go with it.**

* * *

Elsie turned over in her bed yet again, trying and failing to get comfortable, letting out a heavy sigh as she tried to quell her racing mind. She heard Rose grumble from the adjacent bed, "Elsie, what on earth is the matter with you tonight?"

"I just can't sleep," she replied.

"So I've noticed." The sheets rustled; no doubt Rose was turning to face her. "It happens to us all and it is annoying, but for the love of God stop sighing!"

She couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise I was doing it...well not that often anyway."

"Well you are." Rose gave a yawn as she continued, "What with that and your constant fidgeting it's very distracting. She drew her covers up to her neck, twisting them underneath her legs, one eye opening so she could look over to where her roommate lay in the next bed. "You know you have been acting rather odd of late. Is everything alright?"

Elsie blinked up at the ceiling. "Yes," she replied automatically. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Don't know, that's why I asked. You can talk to me, you know, if there is something."

She smiled sadly at her friend's words, she could talk to no-one about this, about what had happened. The consequences would be catastrophic, but still she told her, "I know."

"Good. Do you want to tell me what you were doing out in the rain then?"

Her eyes widening, Elsie felt her heart thud nervously against her rib cage, she couldn't possibly have seen them. Surely the dreadful creaking of that door would have alerted them, surely they had not been so absorbed in one another? Actually that had been the case, she was certain that Queen Victoria could have waltzed right past them and she would not have noticed. "What do you mean?"

"Your uniform was soaked through, you are lucky that we have more than one for there is no way it will be clean and dry for tomorrow." Rose yawned again. "But you didn't have a reason to be outside, did you?"

Relief flooded through her, her secret was safe for now. "No," she admitted. "I didn't, I just wanted some fresh air. It was all getting to be a bit much."

"Mmmph," Rose murmured in agreement. "It has been an unusual day, you would have thought someone had died from the way everyone was tiptoeing around." She gave a small shudder. "And the screaming, it was almost enough to make me want to stay in service and stay away from any handsome footmen." She gave a soft, tired laugh.

It was not the footmen she found distracting, Elsie thought dryly. She'd never had any problem in ignoring their so-called charms, had thought herself far too sensible for all that nonsense. Still though she couldn't help but smile at Rose's irreverent tone. "Oh good, so I won't have to ask Mrs Jones to give you another of her talks."

This time Rose's laughter rang out as clear as a bell. The elderly Housekeeper was well known amongst the female staff for her lectures in how to conduct oneself in a ladylike fashion. These talks were normally accompanied with long, disapproving sniffs and mixed metaphors which made it clear that she had very little experience in the matters of which she spoke of. "Lord no, spare me that, Elsie I beg of you. I shall never flutter my eyelashes at another male as long as I draw breath."

"I will believe that when I see it," Elsie scoffed.

"Oh, very well then," she admitted, "I suppose I shall still do it when I want them to carry something particularly heavy for me. They must be useful for something after all. Although I suppose you are about to tell me, as long as that's all they stay useful for."

"No, I wasn't actually." Considering her actions, it would be rather two faced of her to lecture someone else in how they should behave.

"Huh, oh well, I wouldn't worry because I certainly have no intention of running away with any of them. Somehow I do not think I shall find my future husband here."

"Only a minute ago you were saying that you planned to stay in service."

"No, I said it was almost enough." This time it was Rose who sighed. "I have no future here, it's alright for you, you will make Housekeeper, we all know it. A year, maybe two and then Mrs Jones shall call it a day. You will have a career, a purpose, but I do not wish to just be a maid for the rest of my days and I have no talent for hairdressing so a foray into the realms of becoming a Lady's maid is completely out of the question. No, I will marry...at some point." Her voice grew slower, sleepier. "I will be a dutiful wife and you shall rule the halls of Downton."

"What if I don't want to be Housekeeper?" Elsie asked after a moment, her voice a near whisper, voicing aloud her doubts for the very first time. There was no reply, and she turned onto her side to see that Rose was most certainly asleep, one hand dangling over the side of her bed, her breaths falling deeply and evenly now.

Elsie sighed, rolling back so that she could stare up at the ceiling once more. Housekeeper...it had once been all she had wanted, the pinnacle of her career, her crowning moment, only now it seemed...hollow. Rose's words stayed with her, everyone knew she was next in line, if she stayed the course she would have that victory. But what would she do after that?

If she took the position - and if it was offered it would be the utmost foolishness to turn it down – then she truly was turning her back on any other life. She would have no time to build anything else, she'd never have a husband, or children. Such things she had never craved, and even now she was unsure if she wanted those things over her independence, her career, but there was a seed of doubt that had not previously been there. Or if it had been then she had at least been able to silence it.

Unthinkingly she raised her hand, brushing the tips of her fingers across her lips. That one kiss had thrown her for a loop, and she hadn't exactly been feeling steady before it. She had never felt for a man the way she felt for him. It could not be love, she didn't know him well enough and she was not a foolish young girl who mistook attraction for love. However she could not ignore how she felt. She had felt as though she had just woken from a long slumber, his touch like a well needed shock to her system. She did not want to give that up, she knew that she should regret her actions, but she did not. It would be improper – horrifyingly so – to pursue him, to continue down this path and yet she wanted to, so very much. There could be no future in it, but if they were careful then surely they could have more moments together. She never thought she would be that woman, the one who carried on in such an appalling manner, thinking of secret assignations with a man who was not her husband and would never be.

There was of course a very obvious problem, and that was whether or not Mr Carson wanted to continue down that dangerous path with her. They could both lose everything. But then he had kissed her back, it gave her hope. He had dismissed her, but he was not cruel about it, it had hurt at the time, of course it had but she understood the confusion, the turmoil those words had sprung from, she had felt it herself. She was just not willing to turn away from it just yet. Of course she thought with a sudden worrying start, he could just sack her.

* * *

Charles could not sleep. He could not settle his mind enough to drift off and neither could he focus enough on his book to lull himself into calmness that way. He couldn't stop thinking.

He had been idiotic, incredibly so. She had been vulnerable, upset and he had taken advantage of that. He should have pushed her away, not pulled her closer. Should have been gentle, brought her hands away from where they'd cradled his face, where her touch had scorched his skin. He should have brought her inside, told her to go and get herself warm. He should not have kissed her back.

Frowning, he gave a shiver as a gust of cool wind whipped through the window. The heat had finally, ironically, broken just as his will had been. He got to his feet, grumbling as he went, pulling his window shut with a small thud. Now the heat had dissipated perhaps his common sense would begin to return.

He all but crawled back under his covers, pulling them up to his shoulders. Somehow he doubted that it would, he felt as though perhaps he had crossed the line of no return. No matter what he did, he would never be able to forget that kiss.

Utter foolishness, he had kissed women before – had done a lot more than kiss – but it had never been as intoxicating as that simple embrace. A few more moments and he would have pressed her against the wall, pushed up her skirts...

He had to stop this! He was supposed to be a man of honour, of virtue, he may have had a rather eventful youth, until he had met Alice he had enjoyed the company of women who understood there was no future in it. Then he had fallen in love with Alice and their relationship had never held even the smallest hint of impropriety, it had been completely innocent. When she had turned him down and he had returned to service he had decided that romantic leanings were not for him, after all he could easily control his baser urges. At least he had been able to until she had crawled beneath his skin. He obviously was not the gentleman he had believed himself to be if he could not control himself around a vulnerable female.

Closing his eyes, he hoped that if he lay still enough then eventually sleep would come to him. As he stared into the darkness of his eyelids, he told himself that all he could do was hope that next time he would not let himself falter so easily.

* * *

He had avoided her all day, it was cowardly of course but it had seemed the safest course of action. Her eyes had met his, rather nervously, at times from her seat at the breakfast table and she had rather jumped whenever her name was uttered, spending most of her meal looking completely lost in her own thoughts.

As the day passed, he realised that he would of course have to face her, he had acted appallingly enough without completely blanking her. He waited until the brief lull in the afternoon, leaving his office door open so he might spot her if she passed by, every so often leaving his chair to linger in the doorway, checking that she was not simply sitting in the servants hall. His nerves themed to strum with nervous energy, his muscles twitching as he rehearsed his speech over and over again in his mind.

Eventually she rushed past his door, and Charles jumped to his feet, calling out, "Elsie, if you have a minute."

Her hurried footsteps on the stone flooring stopped for a moment before they started again and she appeared in his doorway, her hands linked together, her fingers twitching together nervously as she asked, "Do you need something, Mr Carson?"

"Yes, um...do come in, and shut the door if you don't mind." He stumbled over his last few words, his request was not the most appropriate but then he could hardly discuss this with the door open. She gave a weary sigh and closed over the door with a soft click, before turning to stare at him. He waved her towards a chair. "Please take a seat."

Elsie shook her head, if he really was going to dismiss her for the way she had behaved, and she was beginning to think that likely, then she was going to remain standing with her head held high throughout. "I'm quite alright," she told him.

"Very well." He straightened his shoulders, watching her look at him expressionlessly, her chin tilted almost defiantly. "It is of course, as I suppose you already suspect, about the events of yesterday."

Her chin dropped a fraction, her eyes taking on a subdued quality. "I rather thought it might be," she replied quietly.

"I will not keep you long, I simply wanted to take the opportunity to apologise for my behaviour. You were upset and I took advantage of that. I can only hope that you can forgive me such a terrible liberty."

Elsie felt her eyes widen, surprised by this turn of events. "You're not going to dismiss me?" She asked disbelievingly. She had managed to completely convince herself that he would, had thought about what she was going to do until the small hours of the morning.

He looked at her in shock. "No, of course not." Blinking rapidly he tried to collect himself again. "I don't interfere with the female staffing," he told her.

"Not usually, but we all know that you have the power to do so if you wish."

"I have yet to find the need to," he admitted. "And I am certainly not about to start with you, not when I was at fault."

Relief flooded through her, she was going to keep her job. "You were not at fault," she attempted to reassure him.

"It is kind of you to say so, but it is clear that I am."

"Mr Carson, if I may be so bold," well she had already been bold and it hadn't destroyed her career, so why stop now? "It was in fact me who initiated what happened."

"You were upset, I should not have reacted the way I did. I should have ended it immediately. I hope I did not cause you too much distress."

"You did not cause me any distress." She took the smallest step forward. "In fact you made me feel better. I do not regret what happened between us."

Charles looked at her in surprise, she was so very close to him again, he couldn't seem to think very well when she got close. "You don't?" He queried.

She shook her head with the ghost of a smile. "No. I suppose I should, and I admit that when I thought you were going to dismiss me I was cursing my own stupidity, but I have never blamed you."

"I am relieved to hear that." He could smell the scent that still linger on the fabric nestled safely in his desk drawer on her skin, it was completely intoxicating and he struggled to bring himself back to his point. "It would appear we have both had a shock to our systems, perhaps we can simply put what has happened to one side and not speak of it again."

Elsie nodded. "That would of course be the sensible thing to do," she admitted, her heart was thumping again. "But I find that I do not want to be sensible."

"You don't?"

"No. I have thought about this, Mr Carson, we are both adults, if we were to be careful there is no reason we could not enjoy each other's company."

His eyes widened and he swallowed nervously. "Are you suggesting an affair?"

"Not exactly, I admit that I am not...experienced with men." She blushed as she spoke and he could not help but find that endearing. "I am suggesting that we simply see where we are lead."

"Elsie, if I am correct in understanding what you are saying then you are innocent. I would not wish to ruin that."

"It takes more than a kiss to ruin someone."

Her hand was resting on the lapel of his jacket now, sliding up towards his shoulder. "I can only be so much of a gentleman, I could not promise you that you would not be ruined if we continue down this road."

"Hmmm." She looked thoughtful for a moment as her hand slid slowly, inexorably around the back of his neck. Her head tilted and her eyes met his. "But you would never do anything I did not wish you to do."

"Of course not!" He blustered.

"Then if you were to ruin me it would be with my consent. That is reassurance enough for me." Her other hand came up and stroked at his cheek. "I do not have visions of courtship, but it has occurred to me that we are both in similar positions. We both wish to keep our paths in service, but that leaves us very much alone at times." She gave him a sad sort of smile. "That does not have to be the way of things."

"I am the Butler here, to compromise a maid, in any way would be despicable of me."

"If it was common knowledge, if I had the idea that you meant to court me in my head or if I was just out of the schoolroom then that may be the case, but none of those things apply to us."

"We would always be in danger of the first," he remarked, slightly perturbed to find that his hands were once again around her waist, pulling her closer into him.

She was on her tiptoes now. "We are both too careful to allow that to happen." Leaning forward she kissed him softly, tentatively, pulling back to look at him, to gauge his reaction.

Desire coursed through him. It would appear as though that even though the heat had left them, his madness had not. "It cannot end well. I can never offer you anything other than this."

"I know that. I have thought if that and I don't believe I need anything else." She had decided in the early hours of the morning that it was not a life away from service that she craved, she did not wish to endure the confines of marriage, that was a reaction to her grief, to her loneliness. This was the solution to that, one that in time would get him out of her system. They were too different to fall in love and like all men did, he would tire of being with the one woman, she did not need anything other than him to stop this aching need she had for him.

He had to tell her no, but instead he was backing her against the nearest wall, scanning her eyes for the smallest hint of doubt; that he couldn't see. "We still shouldn't," he protested.

The wall was against her back now and he was at her front, she should feel trapped, claustrophobic, but instead she relished every second of it. She waited for him to move, wanted this time for it to be his decision. She didn't have to wait long, a few seconds and his control had snapped, his lips on hers.

She had thought the kiss the day before had been passionate but it was nothing compared to this. He nipped at her lips, his tongue finding hers and she felt robbed of her breath, her knees buckling slightly. She moaned into his mouth, trying desperately to pull him closer to her. His fingers were in her hair, pulling the thick strands from its pins, twisting the locks between his fingers.

He broke the kiss, but this time he did not break away from her. Instead he trailed his lips down her neck and she arched against the wall, inhaling sharply, trying not to make a sound, lest she gave them away. He was at the hollow of her throat now and she pushed her fingers through his hair, rumpling its previous perfection.

Charles could feel the fast thrum of her pulse in her throat and felt his trousers tighten. He glanced at her, she was in disarray and though he felt disappointed in himself for giving into such a basic instinct – had hoped himself above this – he truly believed he had never seen such a wondrous sight. He kissed her lips again, the hand at her hip beginning to bunch up her skirts, desperate to touch her bare skin.

There was the clatter of dishes from the kitchen, the noise of Beryl the kitchen maid being shouted at and they drew apart, breathing harshly. "This is not the place," Charles murmured.

"Perhaps not," Elsie admitted. "But another time?"

She looked at him so intently, almost hopefully and he could not deny that he wanted to see her again. He would just need to control himself, he would not ruin her, they would simply enjoy some time together. He let out a deep sigh, he was a foolish man, truly he was, he should not be doing this and yet he just couldn't stop himself. "Another time," he agreed.

Elsie beamed up at him. "I suppose we should make ourselves look more respectable again."

"Most definitely."

"Do you mind if I use the mirror?"

"Of course not." He watched as she quickly and deftly fixed her hair, admiring how she accomplished what to him looked like a confusingly intricate and delicate task. He came up behind her, his hand resting on her arm. "Much better," he told her.

She turned, still smiling. "Thank you, Mr Carson."

The use of his title rankled him, reminded him that he should not be carrying on like a green boy who could not control himself. "Perhaps when it is just us two, you should call me Charles."

"I think I should like that." She kissed his cheek. "I shall see you later then...Charles."

The use of his name, rather than his title soothed him somewhat. He had separated and compartmentalised the sections of his life before, he could and would do that here. One day she would be Housekeeper and they would be on equal footing, they would work side by side and since neither of them intended to fall in love there would be no messy ending. It was an arrangement, an arrangement that could suit them both well for a long time to come.

Even to his own mind, his thoughts rung hollow.


	6. Chapter 6

If Elsie had expected a torrid affair full of stolen moments in the corridors and Butler's pantry then she would have been sorely mistaken and horribly disappointed, thankfully being a pragmatist she had not expected such a thing. It would be foolish of them both to rush in, tempting though it was, they had to proceed with a caution that they had not shown so far.

That was not to say there had not been a change in their interactions with one another. They shared small smiles when they passed one another between tasks. His gaze lingered on hers as he surveyed them all at the breakfast table, her skin prickling as his brown eyes studied her so intently. But what kept her going was the brush of his hand against hers, the way his fingertips ghosted over her fingers in an intricate dance that made her breath catch in her throat.

She had been concerned that he would change his mind following their discussion; that his propriety would overcome any desire he held for her and in the cold light of day he would decide not to follow through on their understanding. Yet it had been him who had first initiated such a touch, his hand reaching out and smoothing over hers as she cleared away some plates in the rapidly emptying dining hall. As the others had filled out, laughing amongst themselves, splitting into small groups, some heading for the back step to smoke and gossip, whilst others played cards by the fire and the remainder headed for their rooms to finish solitary tasks, she had chosen to stay behind and help Beryl clear the table. Nobody had batted an eyelid at that. And so as the other woman had bustled away, huffing and puffing as she went, Elsie had felt Charles move to her side. She had assumed he had wanted past her, and had shifted closer to the table, but instead he lingered, nobody watched them, and in that brief moment he had brushed his knuckles down her arm, his fist unclenching as he reached the bare skin of her wrist so that his fingers could stroke over her warm flesh. Her breath caught in her chest, and she had slid her hand away from the pile of plates, turning it over so that she could squeeze his fingers gently within hers.

It had lasted less than a minute – if she were to really think on it, it was probably over within seconds – but the stolen moment between them had stretched onwards and she had wanted nothing more than to turn into his embrace, to press herself up against him. She had restrained herself though and it was with great regret that she let go of his hand, letting him slip past her, his fingers tracing the small curve of her lower back as he went, eliciting a shiver from her. Her lips curved into a smile as she heard a low, almost inaudible chuckle escape from him, and as she glanced over her shoulder she caught sight of the twinkle in his brown eyes.

In that moment she had realised that she didn't need moments of great passion – although she wouldn't mind a few more kisses like the one in his pantry – she just wanted time with him. Moments of levity, in which she could forget that she was just a housemaid, just a cog in the giant machine that was Downton. In the moments where they shared the smallest smile, the lightest touch, she could just be Elsie again, the girl, not the working drone.

Due to this, she woke up every morning with what she suspected was an incredibly dopey grin on her face, wondering whether today would be the day that they could steal more than just a few seconds.

On one particular morning, a few weeks after their interlude in his pantry, Elsie hummed a happy tune to herself as she tied her apron around her waist and pinned her cap into place. She heard Rose grumble beside her as she tried in vain to pull her crease apron straight. "Why are you so cheerful?" She asked with a sigh of irritation.

"Why not?" Elsie returned easily. "It's a beautiful morning."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I forgot, you're on a half day. I'd be a bit more cheerful too if I was actually going to get to spend some time in the sun."

Elsie gave a small laugh, better her friend believed she simply relished the prospect of a day off rather than knowing the true reason for her happiness. "Come on," she looped her arm around the girl's waist, reaching up with her free hand to tweak her cap straight. "Breakfast will cheer you up, it always does."

Rose's stomach gave a low grumble and her lips twisted reluctantly as she admitted, "No doubt you're right. I'm not exactly a morning person but food does make everything seem a little bit brighter."

"Well come along then, let's try and put a smile on your face," Elsie teased as she dragged her from the room.

"It still won't be as wide as yours," Rose remarked. "You seem almost giddy of late, it's quite unnerving." She bumped her hip off Elsie's. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you had a flirtation with one of the footmen turning your head."

Though she were closer than Elsie would like to the truth, she still gave a loud and true laugh at her friend's words, recognising them for nothing more than a teasing jest. "Oh yes, you know me, how I flutter my eyelids and they all come running." She gave a rather overwrought sigh. "I don't know who I want more, Edward who is barely out of his teens or Robert who very clearly worships the ground that you walk on."

"Robert isn't my type," Rose told her, sniffing slightly. "Not enough gumption, I want a man, not a boy."

Elsie laughed again. "And what would you know of the difference between men and boys?

"I imagine about as much as you, Elsie Hughes," she replied, wriggling her eyebrows teasingly. She gave her friend's elbow a squeeze as they moved swiftly down the winding stairs from the attic. "Unless you are simply trying to distract my attention from your own dalliance with Robert by insinuating that I am having one of my own,"

"I think that you're so hungry it's beginning to affect your common sense."

"I am pretty hungry." As they approached the kitchen, Rose let go and whirled in front of Elsie, asking, "Do I look presentable enough?"

"You'll pass...just," Elsie told her honestly. "Although maybe give your apron a quick press tonight."

"If I must, I must. I truly do not think I could stand yet another lecture," her voice dropped to a whisper at the last part of her sentence so that she was not overheard.

"Yes, well if you don't get a move on we'll both be hearing a lecture on punctuality," Elsie hissed, her smile still firmly in place as she gave her friend a push, the jangling of keys and quick footfall hitting her ears.

They had only just made their places at the table when both Charles and Mrs Jones entered the room, the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as the staff stood, marking their entrance as always. Charles', or rather as she should think of him at present, Mr Carson's gaze raked over all of them, as it did every morning. He tutted slightly as he skimmed over Rose's uniform, but seemed to feel it did not merit a warning and so continued to look over the table. When his gaze met Elsie's, she arched one eyebrow in a silent challenge and watched the corners of his mouth twitch with the ghost of a smile.

She wished – in those moments more than most – that they did not have to hide, that she could speak freely to him, that she did not have to practice restraint. Sometimes, when she caught sight of the slight frown that occasionally marred his features when she caught him glancing at her, she wondered if he felt the same way.

He nodded his head, seemingly satisfied with his inspection before taking his seat, a lead which they all followed. As the food was handed out, Elsie could not help but overhear his conversation with Mrs Jones. The older woman's voice carrying across the table – she doubted she was the only one who heard it. "I suppose today is as good a day as any for you to take the afternoon off, Mr Carson."

"I thought so," he agreed, his voice a low rumble. "His Lordship declared last night that he intends to dine at the Dower House."

"He's choosing to dine or he has been summoned?"

"I did not enquire either way. Regardless as there are to be no formal meals today, I feel that my presence is not required."

"As Lady Grantham is still taking a tray in her room, I'm inclined to agree that even our rather...junior footmen." Her eyes landed momentarily on the young men sitting in the middle of the table, her forehead creasing into a frown and she shook her head despairingly as she continued, "Will be able to cope."

"I have no doubt," he remarked calmly as he buttered his toast.

"Do you have plans for the afternoon?" Mrs Jones enquired politely, stirring her own tea as she checked down the table to ensure that no tomfoolery was taking place.

Charles lifted his head, his eyes momentarily meeting Elsie's as he replied, "Some."

Feeling her skin begin to blush and the urge to beam widely rapidly overtaking her, Elsie looked back down at her own breakfast. It truly did look to be a very good day.

* * *

It would be a lie if Charles was to say that he had not considered ending this ludicrous arrangement he had entered into almost from the very moment he had agreed to it. In fact the morning after, he had straightened his shoulders, fully intending to take her to one side and put an end to the madness of her proposal. Then he had seen her, and all rational thought seemed to abandon him.

Only a few nights following that, he had been unable to restrain himself, unable to stop himself from touching her, if only for a moment. It was madness, he knew that, told himself it on a near daily basis and yet he could not stop himself from acting on it. When he had attempted to restrain himself it had led to him twice pawing at her like some desperate lad, in places where they could easily be discovered. So just perhaps the promise of sometime with her would enable him to control himself. He could and would keep the moments he spent with her separate from his professional life.

As the weeks had passed however and all he had been able to indulge in was few smiles and light touches, he had felt that desperation begin to claw at him again. Then he had discovered – quite accidentally- what afternoon she had off, and that fate meant that if he were so inclined he could also slip away. He only hoped that she had taken his hint at the breakfast table.

Thankfully he did not have long to wait before he found out. Breakfast had not long finished when there was a knock at his door. "Enter," he remarked as he pulled out the ledgers from his desk drawer. As the end of the month approached, he found it was best to get on top of all the receipts so that he could tally up what had been spent on what. However his attention was diverted by Elsie slipping into his room, pressing the door shut behind herself. He could not help but smile. "What can I help you with?"

"I came with an enquiry," she told him, her head tilting as she smiled at him, moving closer as she spoke. "Into what exactly your plans were for this afternoon?"

She was next to him now, her closeness making him feel dizzy, making his head swirl with desire. He couldn't stop himself from slipping his arm around her waist, pulling her into his embrace. His head lowered and he kissed the curve of her neck, savouring the way her breath caught and she pressed herself closer into him. Moving his mouth to her ear, he whispered, "I had hoped to spend some time with you."

Her fingers pressed against the side of his mouth as she gave a low, husky laugh that made his gut kink. "Do you mean to say that you plotted this?"

"I suppose I am guilty of that," he admitted with a smile as his hands spanned her waist, his fingers grazing the curve of her bottom.

"Then how could I decline?" She kissed the corner of his lips where her fingers had been before adding, "I do have to walk into town to deliver a letter though, but perhaps you could come with me?" He drew back slightly and she met his troubled gaze, telling him calmly, "I would meet you at the bottom of the drive and we would split up at the village and meet on the way back. If anyone saw us together then we could dismiss it as coincidence." Her touch grazed the back of his neck and she pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, kissing him lightly. "No-one would ever suspect, even if we were seen."

"No, they wouldn't," he mumbled. They would both be seen as above this. He could not help but kiss her again, deepening her chaste kiss until they were both left breathless. Finally he pulled away, third time he thought to himself, he was up to three times that he had put himself into a foolish position where he could be caught at any moment, such was the effect she had on him. Hopefully the time they spent together today would cool his ardour somewhat, give him back at least some self control. "The driveway then?" He mumbled, "after lunch."

"Yes." She nodded, pulling away, her eyes shining. "After lunch." She took a reluctant step back as she told him, "I should go, I have tasks to see too."

"As do I," he replied, nodding back down at the previously forgotten ledgers.

Her nose wrinkled. "I do not envy you," she told him. "I have never found totting up figures enjoyable."

Normally he found it quite soothing, found that focussing his mind on the black numbers printed on the white paper cleared his mind of any unwanted thoughts, however today he was very much aware that there was another figure he would much rather pour over. His voice gravelly he replied, "A necessary evil."

"Of course, as is the dusting. I should go."

"Yes," he agreed, she should go before he pulled her back into his arms to hell with the consequences.

* * *

He wasn't particularly good at hiding, Elsie mused, her lips quirking in amusement as she saw Charles skulking behind a tree. She laughed underneath her breath, his tall, broad form really did not lend itself to being inconspicuous. He glanced out from his spot, his somewhat apprehensive expression clearing when he saw her. "You look nice," he remarked.

Elsie glanced down at herself, her dress was plain blue, neat and serviceable but hardly up to the standard that they saw here on a daily basis. Still it was gracious to accept a compliment. "Thank you. I suppose it is odd to see one another out of uniform."

He cleared his throat awkwardly at the connotation her words held. "Quite," he murmured, as the flush of realisation suddenly struck her cheeks.

"I do not think that sounded quite the way I intended it to." Her grip tightened slightly on the letter in her hand, her cheeks burning.

Charles coughed again, looking to change the subject he asked, "Are you writing to your sister?"

"Yes." She glanced down at the envelope with a faint smile. "Not about anything interesting I'm afraid, just the tittle tattle of everyday life."

"She is well though?"

"She is, as are the children." She gave a soft sigh. "Sometimes I cannot believe she is a mother, and to five! They keep her as busy as Downton keeps me." She linked her hand through Charles' proffered arm as she asked, "Do you have any nieces of nephews?"

"None, I was an only child."

"They are quite sweet really, although I hardly know them, I haven't even met my youngest niece. So I cannot really comment as to whether you are missing out."

He looked at her curiously. "Do you ever feel as though you are missing out?"

"You mean by not having children of my own?" She saw him give a small nod and she looked thoughtful before finally answering, "No, I knew what I was giving up when I went into service. Did you ever consider taking another path?"

"I did try another life," he admitted, surprising himself by doing so, he never spoke about his disastrous foray onto the stage, "but it wasn't for me."

"You did?" She looked at him in surprise. "What did you try?"

He gave a chuckle. "That is my secret," he told her with a glimmer in his eye.

She swung herself in front of him, nimbly walking backwards as he continued to stride forward. "I'm just curious as to what enticed the great Butler Charles Carson away from service." She laughed at his arched eyebrow as she added, "I had been led to believe you had rather grown up in the role."

Charles reached for her arm, taking her wrist gently and twirling her back into his side, a smile of his own blooming across his face when he heard her laugh again, unable to help himself from dropping a kiss to the curve of her neck before replying, "I suppose I had, my father was master of the stables and my mother helped out where needed, having previously been a kitchen maid. Downton was all I had ever known and I was expected to join its ranks."

"But you didn't want to?"

He shrugged. "I was young and foolish, I didn't see the merits of the job, of the security it offered. I wanted something that was my own, that was more interesting than service."

"That doesn't sound like you," Elsie remarked. Charles was the epitome of reserve and dignity, she could not imagine him having ever wanted to leave.

"I was young and foolish," he supplied blandly. "I soon learned from it." He waved his hand back towards the looming mansion. "I know what I want now."

"When we are nothing but dust, Downton will still stand and we shall be nought but the ghosts that roam its halls. We lend ourselves to its survival and the comfort of the family that reside there."

Charles glanced at her in surprise, there had been no bitterness in her words, almost no feeling at all. "That was very nearly poetic, although it does make it sound as though you are not so sure of your choice."

"I am as certain as I feel I can be. I meant what I said, I do not regret my choice."

"If it remains standing with all its splendour intact, with the Crawley's still in residence then we have done our duty."

"I suppose you think there can be no better legacy?"

"You can think of better?"

She could, but she felt sharing that sentiment would cause Charles to ponder her motives in perusing him and in truth she wanted what she had told him, his companionship, to explore the feelings that ran between them without giving away her freedom. So why confuse that with her answer? "No, I suppose not," she answered after a moment.

He had noted her hesitation and could not help but remark on it. "You still do not approve of the Crawleys?" He guessed, "of her Ladyship's reaction?"

"I suspect I also overreacted that night," she admitted.

"Not surprising, given all that you've been through."

She did not comment on his remark, instead looking up at him replied, "You were right, I'm sure she will have a very happy life. Eventually the disappointment will be forgotten." Elsie squeezed his arm. "So tell me, was his Lordship summoned this evening?"

"He was. You are not the only one who has recognised Lady Grantham's disappointment. I believe he means to ask the Dowager's advice."

"The Dowager's advice?" Elsie echoed, her mouth twitching in amusement. She could not imagine the older woman being the sympathetic sort. She was much more likely to give a sniff of disapproval and inform them that they simply must pick themselves up and carry on.

"She isn't that bad," Charles replied, his eyes twinkling again.

"No, of course not." She started to laugh and it seemed to be contagious as Charles began to chuckle with her. "Let's not talk of them anymore," she suggested. "I have waited far too long to spend time with you to spend it discussing such things."

"A good plan, but we are almost at the village," he pointed out. The moment they reached the top of the path they would be in plain sight.

Elsie gave a sigh. "It's a quicker walk than I thought." She reluctantly let her arm slip from his. "I suppose we should split up now."

"We should," he agreed. He straightened his hat. "I'll meet you back here." He stroked her cheek with his finger as he added, "We still have the rest of the afternoon ahead."

She smiled at him. "So we do."


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you for all your lovely reviews :)**

* * *

Much to her surprise, Elsie arrived back at their meeting point first. Normally she would have lingered in the village after posting her letter, she would have wandered into some of the shops, considered buying something totally frivolous before deciding to remain her usual sensible self. Today however was an entirely different matter; she slipped her letter into the post box and all but ran back to where she had left Charles, only to find that he wasn't there.

Her shoulders slumped at the discovery, she supposed that the sensible thing to have done would have been to have checked with him as to what business he had in town, instead of just assuming he had none. She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as the cheerful tune of whistling hit her ears. Turning, her discomfort faded as she saw Charles come up over the hill. "Ah, I had hoped to be back before you," he told her.

"I was in a bit of a rush to get here," she admitted.

"You didn't wait long, I hope?"

"A few minutes. Did you get everything done that you needed to?"

He looked almost shamefully at his feet. "It wasn't important business." He dug his hand into one pocket and pulled out a small paper bag. "I simply had a craving."

He held out the bag and Elsie glanced in to the see the sweets nestled inside, she gave a small laugh. "You left me waiting for your sweet tooth?"

"It's not often I get to the shop and whenever I do get to the village I cannot help but indulge." Charles gave a small shrug at his admission.

Elsie linked her arm with his. "In all honestly it probably would have looked odd if you had just stood here. That and I would hate to deprive you of such a small treat." Her voice dropped to a teasing whisper as she continued, "Also now I know what to use if I want to gain any information from you."

"Wicked woman," he replied, smiling down at her. When she had first joined Downton, she had struck him as so serious, so dedicated to her role, and whilst the latter was true, over the last few weeks he had seen a different side to her. She could be funny, witty and irreverent with a small few and it delighted him that he was now amongst them. "Tell you what," he lowered his head closer to hers as they walked on. "If I promise to share them, do you promise not to divulge such ruinous information to anyone?"

She dipped her hand into the small bag, drawing out a sweet and popping it into her mouth as she looked thoughtful. "I suppose I might be able to be persuaded to keep such deep, dark secrets to myself." The fingers resting on his arm stroked at the material of his jacket and eyes wide with mock innocence, she told him, "After all imagine if it came out? The whole household could fall into anarchy if they knew all they had to do to butter you up was tempt you with something sweet.

"As much as I may enjoy the rare indulgence, I do believe that it would take rather more than a sweet for me to look the other way on most matters."

"And what if it was me who was offering them to you?"

"Like Eve with her apple," he mused aloud.

"I'm glad to hear that you've been paying attention in church, Charles, but it didn't quite answer my question."

He looked her over, some of her curls had worked themselves free from the intricate knot she'd pinned them into, framing her pale, porcelain face. Her dress, thought plan, brought out the colour of her blue eyes, the thin material clinging to the perfect curve of her waist. Her lips had fallen into a small pout as she sucked on her sweet, her eyes gleaming as she teased him. In that moment he did not believe that he could deny her anything, the thought shocked him and he knew that she couldn't know just how much she affected him. "If it was you, then I think I just might be in trouble," he replied carefully.

Elsie couldn't help but be delighted by that admission, that he wanted her as badly as she craved him. "I shall keep that in mind, use my powers for good only."

"I am much relieved." He could see the grand tower of Downton in the distance, poking above the tops of the trees that surrounded the grand estate. "So, tell me, what would you like to do with the rest of your day?"

"I do have an idea," she admitted as her eyes scanned the trees that lined the road until she spotted the small inlet. "Follow me."

His eyebrow arched quizzically as she led him along the small dirt path. "Where exactly are we going?" He asked finally, as they made their way through the thicket.

"Have you ever taken the time to explore?" Elsie questioned him.

"You mean trespass?"

She laughed at his stern tone. "We work here, so I'm sure that we're allowed to take walks around the grounds, so long as we don't get in anyone's way." Elsie shook her head as she smiled almost despairingly at him, always so concerned with the rules, with propriety. "Trust me, there's no harm in us being here."

"You've wandered the estate before then?"

"Are you going to reprimand me if I say yes?" She countered.

"Considering that I am now guilty of the same offence, it would same rather hypocritical of me to scold you."

"Very true." The twigs and leaves rustled underfoot as Elsie pulled him forward. "But I do not understand how you especially, someone who has grown up here, has resisted the urge to explore all this place has to offer. I think we should take that chance now."

He smiled at her exuberance. "So am I to take it that you actually don't know where you're taking me?"

Elsie paused, her brow furrowing into a frown as she admitted, "Well, not exactly. I mean I've always meant to, I've just never got round to it."

"Well then, I suppose it's a good thing that I was curious as a boy and I did take the opportunity to explore."

Her head tilted to one side as she stared at him in surprised delight. "You are a man of many surprises," she told him.

He chuckled as he took her hand. "You're just lucky it's nearby." Charles studied the wooded area they stood in closely before pulling her to the left of where they had been standing. "This way."

"Should I be concerned that you're taking me deeper into the woods," she teased.

"You seemed quite happy when it was you doing the dragging."

Elsie laughed, clutching his hand tighter as she stumbled through the overgrowth, twigs snapping underfoot, until they stepped into a clearing. She gasped, blinking in the bright sunlight as she took in her surroundings. It was only a small section, but the area was grassy, with sprigs of colourful wildflowers clustered together in small crops, the sun filtering through the trees, bouncing off the variety of colours. "Oh Charles, it's beautiful."

His chest puffed out proudly at her words of praise. "I thought you would like it."

Sitting down on the ground, she patted the long grass beside her, indicating that he should join her.

Charles lowered himself carefully next to her, watching as she stretched out, disappearing from view as she lay back. He shuffled closer until he was almost looming over her. Her eyes were closed, a small smile on her face as she felt the warmth of the sun on her face. "Lie down," she instructed him, one eye cracking open momentarily. She waited until he had taken his hat off and was stretched out beside her before she asked, "When did you find this place?"

"When I was eight, I stumbled upon it."

Elsie turned onto her side so that they were pressed together. "Why do I feel as though there is more to that story?"

Charles shifted to face, his hand reaching out, curving around her hip. "Because there is, but it's not a story for today," he told her with a slow shake of his head.

She scanned his brown eyes, took note of the expression there and she reached up, stroking the skin of his cheek, stubble prickling her fingers. "No," she agreed. "Perhaps not today." She moved closer still.

The sunlight dappled across her smooth skin and Charles found he could no longer resist her. He kissed her, chastely at first, giving her the opportunity to pull away. She didn't, her fingers threaded through his hair, before dipping lower, pulling him closer to her. Her hands ran over his broad shoulders, revelling in the obvious feel of strength under her hands even as she yearned to feel the warmth of his skin seeping into her. She'd never felt anything like this before, had never wanted a man so badly.

His fingers nudged against one of the pins in her hair and Charles couldn't help but pull it loose, unable to stop it from falling out of his grasp, letting that thick curl of her soft hair twist around his fingers instead. He wanted to take out every pin, wanted to see her look dishevelled, her dark curls loose and wild around her, and he could not stop himself from giving into that particular need.

She let out a stifled gasp against his mouth and he broke the kiss only to drag his mouth down her neck, kissing and nipping at the thin skin there. Elsie sank further into him, running her hand through his hair, ruffling it, making him look ever so slightly unkempt. She wanted more, so much more, and her fingers moved to the buttons of his waistcoat, undoing them deftly, pushing it clumsily over his shoulders before she turned her attention to his shirt.

As his shirt fell open, he caught her hand. "Elsie, if you don't want to-"

Breathing heavily, Elsie gently pulled her hand free, pressing one fingertip against his lips to quiet him before running the flat of her palm against his chest, her fingers raking through his dark chest hair. "I do want to."

Charles groaned at her touch and kissed her deeply, pressing her back against the grass. He wiggled his hand underneath her so that he could undo the buttons of her dress, unable to resist any longer.

She freed her arms from the confines of her dress, letting it fall to her waist and she couldn't help but feel slightly apprehensive when she was no longer fully clothed.

His gaze raked over her, her corset pushing up her breasts, the curve of them apparent as they almost spilled out over her shift. He trailed his mouth down her neck, nipping at the spot that he knew would make her shiver and moan, press herself closer to him. Her curls brushed her pale shoulders, shoulders that were only covered by the thin straps of her shift.

His lips moved over her collarbone, sucking lightly at her skin before moving to her curve of her breasts. He felt her breathing ratchet up a notch and he silently promised that no matter what if she showed any sign of reluctance he would stop, of course he would stop. His fingers fumbled with the ties of her corset before he let it drop to one side. He heard her breath catch as his hand cupped her breast, his thumb brushing gently back and forward over a peaked nipple, his mouth still kissing her neck.

Elsie let her head tilt backwards, her mouth opening slightly as his hands and mouth kept exploring her. A shocked moan escaped her lips as his mouth closed around her breast, his tongue pressing the material of her shift against her.

Leaning forward she kissed him the top of his head, rocking closer against him, feeling his hips pressing against her, his excitement obvious.

He should be a gentleman he thought vaguely, should pull away and cover her, after all he had made her no promises of marriage, no proclamations of love and so he should not be taking advantage of her in such a way. And yet he could not bring himself to stop, after all he was not a gentleman and she had told him that she wanted this. That being said, he had no intention of treating her in the way he had treated the woman who he had had encounters with in the past when he'd been on stage, he would treat her properly and savour every moment.

He shifted her dress down off her hips and trailed his hands down her sides, gripping the curve of her hips as he slowly slipped the straps from her shoulders, pushing it down, freeing her breasts. If they had been somewhere else he would have bared her completely, but they weren't. She drew him close to her and he felt her breasts press against his chest, just as he'd dreamed so many times, he let his fingertips brush against the side of the full curve as he kissed her.

His hands were at her drawers now, slipping his hand through the slit, stroking the skin of her thighs gently, hearing her hiss at the sensation.

He ran the flat of his hand from her chin, down her sternum and over her stomach before clasping her firm thigh in his grasp, shifting her leg slightly and settling over her. His mouth found her breasts again as his fingers began teasing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, feeling the flesh dampen as she squirmed.

Charles moved, his mouth taking hers once more as his fingers slid higher still. He felt her stiffen slightly as his finger slid through her wetness and brushed gently against the small nub he knew would give her pleasure. She let out a sharp gasp at the caress, her hips bucking slightly as her fingers curled into the material of his open shirt. Her head fell back, her mouth open as her breath started to fall in quick pants as he continued to stroke her, his mouth on her neck now as he urged her higher.

She buried her head in his hair, her moan turning into a note of surprise when he slid one finger inside her, hooking it slightly, pressing against a spot that made her muscles tighten and her hips twist, unsure if she was trying to get closer or get away from the intensity. His finger slid backwards and forwards over that one spot as his thumb continue to caress her.

Her eyes shut, she couldn't keep them open anymore, her hips were moving instinctively and a cry stuck in her throat as he slid a second finger to join the first. Her grip on his shoulders tightened, every muscle in her body feeling as though it were tensing up. "Charles!" she gasped as finally the tension seemed to burst and she felt the pleasure wash over her, she couldn't help but cry out and his mouth covered hers, trying to muffle the sound.

His fingers slowed their movement as the tightening of her muscles began to fade, eking out that last bit of sensation and he kissed her deeply, her fingers caressing his cheek.

She shivered as he shifted his hand away from her, and she stretched languidly as she tried to catch her breath. "That was..." She shook her head, unable to find the words to describe the sensation he'd wrought upon her.

Charles shifted, trying not to focus on his own ache, on how much he wanted to slide into her slick heat, to feel those muscles tighten around him. He swallowed heavily at the thought.

Elsie stroked his chest before moving downwards, tracing the outline of his erection through the fabric of his trousers. A groan caught in his throat. "Elsie...you don't have to."

"I know, but I want to."

His breath was falling in heavy pants as her fingers reached for the clasp of his trousers. He caught her hand as she fumbled, he knew she wasn't experienced and he didn't want to rush her. "As much as I want you," he told her gruffly, "perhaps today should be just about you."

"That hardly seems fair."

"If I find it fair, then you have no cause to complain."

Elsie felt the ache between her legs deepen, she didn't want him to stop there, she wanted him now. She wrapped herself around him, her leg hooking around his waist. "Is that what you really want?" She whispered in his ear. "To wait?"

He could feel the heat of her through the fabric of his trousers and he could feel his resolve weakening. "We should." He swallowed heavily, his tongue feeling heavy, leaden in his mouth. "If I ruin you, I can't take it back."

She moved her hips against him, her fingers lingering at the catch on his trousers. "I'm a housemaid, one day, God willing, I'll be the housekeeper, so explain to me what difference it makes if we do this? I'm not saving myself for marriage."

His eyes fluttered shut as he searched for a reason, then he felt her fingers deftly undo the catch to his trousers and he could no longer resist. He caught her mouth again, kissing her deeply, unable to stop himself, no longer resisting as she pushed his trousers below his hips.

Oh," she remarked as she bared him to her view. She didn't have a lot - or any - experience to compare him to, but he looked big, he was long and thick and even though she knew that he would fit, she wasn't entirely sure that this was going to be as enjoyable as she'd always imagined. Reaching out, she wrapped her fingers around him, watching in amazement as his head fell back and he groaned loudly.

His thumb flicked against her bundle of nerves again and Elsie bucked, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Charles' eyes flickered off her face to where she was arching, her breasts on offer to him. Lowering his mouth he experimentally pulled on into his mouth, his tongue swirling round it as he'd done early, repeating the action with more fervour when her moans grew louder.

She felt him pressing against her thigh, hot and hard. "Now," she told him in a rush of air.

Elsie wrapped her arms around his neck, meeting his eyes for a moment as he pushed himself onto her. The excitement she felt faltered as she felt her muscles stretch almost painfully to accommodate him, a pained gasp escaping her.

For a moment Charles was barely aware of it, his head falling so that his forehead was pressed against her shoulder. "You feel so good," he almost slurred. He lifted his head and on seeing her expression, asked worriedly, "You want me to stop?"

"No," she assured him, "keep going."

His thrusts were smooth and his hands slid underneath her hips, tilting her, hitting a spot inside her that made her bite her bottom lip as she moaned in pleasure, the initial pain fading. Elsie tried to lift her hips but she kept doing it at the wrong moment. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, wishing that she did not feel quite so clumsy.

"Elsie." She looked up and met his gaze. He lifted a hand and stroked away a curl that was resting on her cheek, leaning forward to kiss her.

The tension disappeared as his mouth explored hers, and finally their hips fell into rhythm, his large hand even going as far as to clasp her thigh and pull it high up on his waist. That simple action caused him to slide deeper and instead of feeling more uncomfortable she suddenly felt a spark of excitement travel through her, and she gasped, kissing him again, encouraging him on.

He brought his hand back to her clit again and pressed against it, she cried out again, feeling all the sensations she'd felt previously start to build up again. His breath was hot against her cheek and she could see the concentration and pleasure etched across his features and she knew he was close. She was getting closer to, her eyes shutting as a wall of pleasure seemed to surround her.

Suddenly she was crying out, her hips bucking and she heard him groan her name as she clenched around him, before pulling free of her embrace, spilling himself outside of her, his large shoulders shaking.

Finally he fell to the side, pulling her so that she could curl against him, the long grass hiding them from view. Elsie rested her head on his shoulder, glancing down at their dishevelled forms she gave a small laugh.

Charles stroked her shoulder as he asked, "What is it that is amusing you so much?"

"We hardly look prim and proper now, in fact I think we might be as far from it as you can get."

"Most likely." He kissed the top of her head. "No regrets?"

"None. You?"

"I would not call them regrets," he answered truthfully. He could not regret what had transpired between them, but neither did it sit comfortably with him. She was not one of the light skirts he had consorted with on stage, he felt uncomfortable with how he had taken her innocence and was offering nothing in return. "After what we've done today, you would be within your rights to demand marriage," he told her bluntly.

Elsie drew back from him at that, pulling her shift back over herself. "And what of your career?"

"If I need to then I shall walk away."

If he needed to. Elsie let out a hiss of breath at that, she did not want his offer of marriage, especially not one so grudgingly offered. She groped around grass for her hair pins with one hand as she pulled her dress on with the other. "Then you shall be relieved to hear that it is not needed," she told him.

Charles looked at her. "Are you annoyed at me."

"Slightly, your timing could have been better."

"I was offering marriage, I have ruined you after all."

Elsie got to her feet, quickly doing up the buttons to her dress. "I wish you would stop saying that." She glared at him. "I do not need your pity. I knew what I was suggesting and I accepted it." He made her feel as though she'd done something to be ashamed of.

He pulled up his trousers and began to fasten his shirt as he got to her feet, towering over her. "I did not mean to offend you. It is simply proper of me to at least offer-"

"Hang propriety," she snapped. "You have no wish to marry me," she stated.

"Well no, but..." He tailed off as he realised his mistake, saw her features tighten.

"Then do not offer." Her hands moved jerkily as she pinned her hair back into place. "I shall make my own way back to the house," she informed him.

Charles made to protest but she moved to quickly and he was far too dishevelled to chase after her. He muttered in annoyance under his breath, timing had never been his strong point, but this was taking it to a whole new level.


End file.
